Mad Man
by fanfictioner124
Summary: Lisbon goes up to the attic to check on Jane . . . but what she finds there is a mad man. Rated T for intensity.


**A drabble I thought up the other day and couldn't resist writing down. The intensity is so palpable between these two sometimes it just drives me CRAZY! We need some serious Jisbon next season.**

**Minor suggestive content. Be warned.**

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"Jane?" Lisbon called, giving the attic door a sharp rap. "Are you in there?"

After a few moments of silence, Lisbon looked down the door to see a strip of light shining through the crack at the bottom. Tentatively, she tried the handle . . . and found that it was unlocked.

"Jane?" she called, softer this time. The single lamp cast a myriad of shadows around the room, making it hard to discern the figure standing in front of the window in the corner.

"Lisbon."

Flat, unemotional. She couldn't tell his mood from the tone of his voice, nor could she tell by the way he was standing-casual, stiff, wired, relaxed . . . the shadows made it too hard to get an accurate read. Something about that made her uneasy.

"Jane, what are you doing up here? It's late," she said. She carefully made her way toward him, trying to be as unintrusive as possible. But she couldn't help but notice the papers on the wall: pictures, maps, names-so many names. Writing scrawled unintelligibly across documents and case files. In the light, it looked like the ravings of a mad man.

She drew her attention back to the figure in front of her, stopping at the corner of the desk. "Jane."

"What, Lisbon?"

He turned, a half-cocky smile hinting at the corner of his lips-but his eyes said something different. A frightening volatility was glinting in their sea-blue depths-the volatility of a mad man.

He turned all the way around, and that's when Lisbon saw the bottle of Bourbon in his hand. She couldn't tell how much he had drunk. And besides, Jane could hide it no matter how much he'd had. She fought the urge to take a step back.

Lisbon spoke in a measured tone. "I know what happened with Lorelei tonight was-"

"Don't talk about Lorelei," he said, his voice low. She could see the smile had been erased from his face. Swallowing, she tried again.

"Jane, I-"

"Stop. Just stop, Lisbon," Jane said bitterly, advancing toward her. She instinctively retreated the slightest bit. But then he passed her, setting the bottle down on the desk and walking away in one fluid motion. Lisbon turned.

"Hey," she called after him, "I just wanted you to know that I know what you're going through."

"Oh, you do?" said Jane, voice rising.

"You feel guilty. I get that," Lisbon said, trying to sound objective. "But it's not your fault, what happened to Lorelei. It's Red John's."

"Guilty?" he scoffed, coming towards her. "Oh, Lorelei got what she deserved."

"She deserved justice, Jane. Not this. She was a criminal-"

"She was a murderer!" He yelled vehemently, stepping even closer. "And monsters like her, monsters like Red John . . . they don't deserve justice, Lisbon."

He was holding her by the arms now. She could see the manic glint in his eye as he held her gaze, rage boiling just beneath the surface.

"Monsters like him deserve to die."

A long moment passed as Jane held her in a vice-like grip, the fire in his eyes dying down to reveal the fervency of desperation-the desperation of a mad man.

"You're hurting me," Lisbon said finally, trying to keep the quiver from her voice. She expected him to loosen his hold-when suddenly, he tightened it. She had a sharp intake of breath.

"Am I?" Jane said, his voice suddenly husky. A sadistic glimmer shown in his eyes as he pressed himself closer, causing Lisbon to stumble back against the desk. Her heart raced. The moment hung, suspended, as Lisbon gazed up at him speechlessly . . . before he pressed his lips to hers.

She could taste the Bourbon the moment he made contact. He deepened it forcefully, sliding his hands from her arms down to her wrists. She pulled back, trying to break free.

"Jane-"

"Lisbon," he breathed, taking her from the desk to the wall. He slammed her against it.

"Patrick-stop," Lisbon said firmly. "Stop! I don't want this."

He had her wrists against the wall, his lips dangerously close to hers, when he finally stepped back. His eyes glinted dangerously in the light.

"Get out."

"Jane-"

"I said get out!" he yelled.

Lisbon ground her teeth and stormed past him, trying to fight the sting of tears that were threatening to surface. As she neared the doorway, Jane lashed out at the desk, sending it crashing to the ground. Then she was out the door, across the stairwell, and down the stairs.

The last thing she heard was the sound of a bottle shattering against a brick wall.

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**So? What do you think? A little dark, I know . . . but I can't help thinking Jane's got a sadistic streak that Bruno Heller's just been too afraid to develop :) ****Please comment below!**

**Oh and P.S. ~ ****I know the timing of Jane having his stuff still on the wall (and not in a charred heap outside in the burned-out oil can) might not have fit with the timing of Lorelei's death, but hey, I had to to make it work. Just go with me on that. **


End file.
